


forever, not maybe

by losgar (ladyoflosgar)



Series: crapsack modern westeros au [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Day At The Beach, Edging, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Modern Westeros, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoflosgar/pseuds/losgar
Summary: Hey cutie. I will be outside the Jeyne Arryn house with the Mustang when you’re done with class this afternoon. I’m taking you out tonight.All day after reading Dom’s text she could hardly focus for the excitement. He hadn’t told her he was coming to Gulltown this weekend. Through the jitters and the giggles and the tapping of her feet, the maester’s lectures faded out to silly love songs and her scribbled notes flowed into hearts. Junior year was important, her advisors said, and her Maidsday 1pm was important. But they couldn’t be important when it might happen today.Sansa looked down at her clothes in dismay. I can’t wear this. None of it was anywhere near good enough for the day your boyfriend proposed...
Relationships: Domeric Bolton/Sansa Stark
Series: crapsack modern westeros au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882534
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	forever, not maybe

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by @redbirdblackdog's comment that Domeric really needed a trip to the beach.
> 
> What a faux pas, posting a sequel before the first installment is finished. OOPS.

_Hey cutie. I will be outside the Jeyne Arryn house with the Mustang when you’re done with class this afternoon. I’m taking you out tonight._

All day after reading Dom’s text she could hardly focus for the excitement. He hadn’t told her he was coming to Gulltown this weekend. Through the jitters and the giggles and the tapping of her feet, the maester’s lectures faded out to silly love songs and her scribbled notes flowed into hearts. Junior year was important, her advisors said, and her Maidsday 1pm was important. But they _couldn’t_ be important when _it_ might happen today. 

Sansa looked down at her clothes in dismay. _I can’t wear this._ None of it was anywhere near good enough for the day your boyfriend proposed...

She’d known they’d be getting married since their first real date at the Gulltown Derby two years ago. It had never been a question of _whether_ , only _when,_ and _how_.

Bolton Corp’s headquarters were in White Harbor, so after that first hot summer, their in-person dates were few and far between. Every time he took her out, she had to look her best. He’d gone to Eyrie Prep, and EP guys liked to show off. Whenever _it_ happened, there was sure to be at least one of Dom’s buddies from Lords waiting in the wings, camera in hand.

But if she’d felt inadequate in her ruffly white peasant blouse, denim cutoff shorts, and slouchy gladiator sandals, all those feelings died. There he was, arms crossed, leaning against the Mustang passenger door. When he saw her, he straightened, opened his arms, and smiled brighter than theater floodlights.

“Cutie,” he said, when she reached him and let him trap her in his arms. “I missed you.” 

She nodded, her nose brushing his ear as she nuzzled his jaw, peppering him with little kisses all the way up to his ear. “I missed you too.”

When she pulled back from the hug he gave her a smirk. “You forgot something.”

“Yeah? What?”

“This.” He tipped up her chin, spun her around, and pinned her to the door with his mouth and his chest and his legs. The shiny red metal was hot in the afternoon sun. She couldn’t speak when he broke away. “There we go,” he said, grinning like a fool. Dom placed a hand on the small of her back and motioned for her to sit. “Get in the car.”

“Shouldn’t I change first?” His pale eyes scanned her up and down, slowly, slowly, lingering when they reached her hips, her chest. She shivered.

“Nope. You’re perfect.” Only then did she notice what he was wearing. A soft white cotton shirt from Tyrosh, breezy tan chinos that hung so smartly off his hips, blood-red cowboy boots. He spied her old cowhide bookbag - not so Stark white anymore - and said, “I’ll take care of this.”

When he took his place in the driver’s seat, he donned his silly pink flayed man cowboy hat and leaned over for a quick peck. “Hey,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “I love you.” 

Before she could say “I love you too,” he squeezed her leg just beneath her shorts, took his hand away, and turned the key in the ignition. She wasn’t sure whether the tingling between her thighs came from him or the revving of the Mustang’s powerful engine.

They’d beaten traffic and Gulltown disappeared. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He took his right hand off the steering wheel and reached for her neck, rubbing his fingers at the nape where her hair began. “I just hope you’re hungry.”

She reached for him too, scratching his neck just the way he liked. Her tummy rumbled. She’d been so excited she’d forgotten to eat today.

Soon they turned off the highway at the Runestone exit, and then he veered off onto a private road. Royce property. He made another turn, just before the famous lavender farm, away from the castle and the town.

“We’re going to the beach?” 

He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Smart cutie.” 

They parked by the rocks at the line where the trees ended and the sand began. Dom got out of the car, but instead of opening her door, he raised the convertible’s top and made for the trunk. He came around with a basket and a pink and white striped tote bag. “Put this on,” he said, before turning so his back was against the window. “Not gonna peek.” 

In the tote, she found a towel, sunscreen, a wide straw sunhat, and a pair of the tacky heart-shaped sunglasses that silly Dom liked to stockpile. She blushed when she couldn’t find a swimsuit. _Does he...?_ But on her lap, the towel eased out of its tight roll, and an old-fashioned white number fell out. A ruched one-piece like you used to see before bikinis stopped being scandalous. She giggled at that. Dom only ever bought her one-pieces. _Cutie you know when you wear those stringy little things I swear I’m gonna pass out. Here, wear this instead._

Silly Dom.

 _It’s just the two of us. It won’t be today._ She’d missed him so much and was so glad to see him that she couldn’t even be disappointed. But she couldn’t help but wonder what he had in store for her. When Daryn Hornwood had proposed to Alys Karstark at last year’s Wolf’s Den Summer Bash she’d watched him study the whole thing. The staging, the decorations, the placement of the cameras. Where Daryn had planted key audience members. She knew Dom was thinking about it. When this year’s Gulltown Derby rolled around she’d thought she’d been sure it would be the day. It was their second anniversary after all. But it had only been another race date, and Pop-pop Ryswell and Roose hadn’t even won.

She tugged on the swimsuit as best she could all cramped up in his car. The waist clung perfectly but at the edges it rode up her ass, crept down her boobs. She wasn’t sure if it was a size too small or if she just needed to stretch her legs to get it to fit correctly.

 _“_ All done!” she called, throwing the towel over her shoulder and her clothes into the bag. Dom turned around and opened the door. His goofy, dazed grin was back, and he held out his hand for her to take.

He picked a spot in the lee of the rocky cliffs to protect them from the wind. The Royces’ private beach. Totally secluded. Out of the basket, he took a pale lavender picnic blanket, a bottle of wine, grapes, fine _Mopatis_ cheese cut into little cubes, nuggets of cured meats, and yet another basket, this one full of fresh-baked bread. Dom slipped off his boots and they lay down together. 

He stretched his arms and his legs and wiggled his toes, breathing out whatever tension he’d built up over the workweek. It made her smile to see him relax. He could get so stressed out sometimes. Rolling his neck and cracking his spine, he faced her with another winning grin.

“Hungry?” She nodded. He sat up and sliced the bread, picked up a cube of cheese and a nugget of meat, stacked it all together and aimed it at her mouth. “Open up then, cutie.” 

She almost squealed when she tasted the shavings of lemon zest baked into the bread. 

“Yummy,” she said. Cupping his cheek and stroking his jaw, she leaned in until their noses touched. “Just like you.” Soon they both tasted like salty cheese. 

While Dom sliced more bread, Sansa peered into the basket and found what she sought, a wine glass, and a bottle opener. Even on the beach, her boyfriend wouldn’t have dared to drink straight from the bottle. The strong Arbor red, rich and fruity made plinking noises as it swirled out into the glass. She held it up to his lips and watched him drink deep. The apple in his throat bobbed and she traced it as it moved, his short stubble pricking her fingers.

The glass went back into the basket. She needed to touch him. Scooting back behind him, she wrapped her arms around his chest, her fingers bunching in the soft cotton, her neck and chest and tummy curved flush against his back, her cheek on his.

“I missed you,” she said, relishing the heaviness and quickness to his breaths. “I love you.”

“Same to you.” He swiveled his head around to reunite their noses. “You have no idea.”

They couldn’t eat this way. She had to move. Dom positioned her in his lap. She took the wine, he took the food, and on the whole, he had more work to do before they were done. Sansa had been hungry.

“Too full for swimming?” She shook her head. “Thought so.” 

After packing up their picnic, he pulled the hem of his shirt out of his chinos, and with far too lazy fingers began undoing the buttons, top to bottom. _Still so pale_ , she noted, as the white cotton came apart. Sparse dark hairs sprung from his solid chest and down his abs, growing thicker in a line that ran from his belly button. It looked like he’d been working out more. His belt was the next to go, and then the chinos. When she dragged her eyes away from the sharp ridge of his pelvic crest she saw he was wearing the trunks she’d bought him their first summer together, the one patterned with Florian’s motley from the cartoon movie. 

_Squirt._ Dom had retrieved the tube of sunscreen, the sticky swirl of white smeared along his palms and fingers. “Cutie, turn over. I’m not gonna let you burn.” 

She twisted her hair into a loose bun and lay prone on the towel. Gooseprickles sprang up like daffodils on her arms, her neck, between her shoulder blades, and along her spine as Dom’s hands smoothed the chilly ointment along her skin. Her breath began to quicken and hitched when he got to the hems cutting across her ass. The stretchy lycra had bunched and rode up so uncomfortably that she wanted to squirm it free. But when his palms smoothed along her cheeks, left and right both at once, and his first fingers traced the crease that marked the beginning of her thighs, she had to bite down on her lip and squeeze her legs together.

“Oh,” she whispered. Then she swallowed.

It was their little game. Dancing on the edge, getting as close as they could go, catching each other before they fell. Some days he made her climb so high she almost couldn’t bear the vertigo.

“It won’t work like that, cutie,” Dom said. He knew what he was doing. Another squirt meant colder sunscreen and the shock when he slid both his hands between her thighs just beneath her pussy, spreading her legs apart. The soft terrycloth tickled her skin when she bunched the towel in her fisted hands. Her left leg he’d ignored, and she wiggled her toes and arched her feet. _Point and flex, point and flex._ It was the only way to dull the sensation of him circling her right thigh with his hands, leaving cool sunscreen behind as he caressed down her leg to her ankles, past her calves.

“Oh,” she whispered again, when he got to her foot. Grains of sand scraped against her teeth as she bit down on the towel. It smelled like Dom’s detergent and tasted of salt. “Oh.” Her right leg was done, but only half the torture.

When her left leg was done too Dom turned her over again and pulled her up so she was sitting. With the darkness pooling in his eyes to the devious tug of his smirk, he could have been a demon from the seven hells. Another squirt of the tube had just his first finger coated, and he brought it up to stroke her face. 

“You’re wicked,” she said. Her forehead was done, and her nose, and he was working on her cheeks.

“Nah.” He squeezed more sunscreen into his right hand and grasped her shoulder with his left. “This is wicked.” 

He started with her collarbones and stroked his way across like a painter brushing blue across the sky, leaving her to suck in air. When he got to the swell of her chest, he gathered the sunscreen together on his first finger and snuck it along the hem, from one side to the other, before sticking it where her cleavage began and stroking up and up and up. She’d long since felt her nipples were hard and through the stretchy lycra she knew he could see it too. The heel of his palm just ghosted against them as he worked.

_Wicked._

“My turn, cutie.” Dom handed her the tube of sunscreen. She shuddered in relief, for she was almost aching. But it wasn’t fair, since his trunks covered up so much. Put out, she made him lie on his tummy first. The white cream blended almost imperceptibly when she rubbed it into his skin, kneading his shoulders, his arms. "Mmm.” She couldn’t help but giggle at his enjoyment and relish his solid muscles beneath her hands. She followed their contours with her fingers, tracing along his back, caressing his legs, while his skin warmed in the sun. When she was done she poked him.

“Roll over.” Dom was tenting. As he put his arms up and folded his hands under his head, he followed her gaze down. She wondered if he’d been smiling like that the whole time. _Wicked._ Kneeling over him, she spread the sunscreen onto his face, then his chest, which rose and fell ever more quickly. 

It was a mistake to peek at his face. _Wicked, wicked, wicked!_ Eyes half-lidded and swirling with dark, mouth parted just a bit, his stare was enough to reduce her hands to trembling, leaving lumpy paths down his abs, the defined ridges of his hips. 

Finally, her work was done. She had to kiss him again. Placing both palms against his chest she scooted forward once more, leaning into him, onto him. He grabbed her to his person, running his hands up and down her sides. She couldn’t get closer with her arms like this so she lifted them up and around, winding her fingers in his hair. He groaned, and she pressed her weight into him until he was lying down. He started cupping her ass, squeezing, stroking. It was already so hot, and then the tingling began. If she didn’t grind down on him the tingling would become an ache, but if she kept up any longer she wouldn’t be able to breathe...

Dom, it seemed, needed air too. His face had gone pink, and it took a few blinks before his eyes regained their focus. The only words for his expression when he broke away were _dizzy_ and _dazed_. Slowly, almost stiffly, he unwrapped himself from around her and propped himself up on his palms. _Time to stop._ He cleared his throat, stood, and offered her his hand.

“Come on, cutie. We’re going swimming.” As they walked towards the sea he stroked circles on her thumb. “You’re a tease, you know that?” 

“Nuh-uh, I’m not.” She giggled. They stopped at the water’s edge. Sansa dipped a toe in. _Perfect._

“Too cold?”

“It’s fine!” She sloshed forward until she was waist-deep, shimmied like a dancer from the Summer Isles, and splashed in his direction before returning to the tide line. “Come on!” 

Dom’s goofy grin was back. He followed her into the water, froze, and gave her ass a playful smack. “And you said you didn’t tease me.” 

They were still laughing when they got back to their blanket by the rocks, but only Dom was shivering. He hurried into his shirt and his chinos and his boots and didn’t care that his pants got wet. Sitting back down, he slung his arm around her waist, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Cutie?” he said. “Sansa?”

“Yeah?” 

“I miss you a lot.” With his other hand, he laced his fingers through hers. “It’s - ” he cleared his throat. “It’s lonely up in White Harbor. I kinda wish I’d stayed in Gulltown to get my novices’. I’d still be here now.”

He’d never told her that before. He’d only ever had good things to say about his job at Bolton Corp. “I miss you too,” she said, squeezing his hand. She was going to say more but he kept talking.

“Yeah my family’s up there but it’s not the same. Roose and Pop-pop are always traveling, and Beth’s always busy with school. Aunt Barbrey never leaves Barrowton anymore. Dad and Walda are busy with the twins. Robbie hasn’t gone out since the baby was born. Same with Harry and Saff.” He sighed. “Everyone else lives down here. But even then it’s all baby stuff, and Mych and Mya are abroad.” Sansa nodded. She’d seen enough of the Royce and Waynwood pictures online. And it seemed like there was a new Frey baby every month.

“You’re jealous.” 

“Yeah.” Dom rolled his ankles, the pointy tips of his blood-red boots moving in twin circles. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you were there. We could babysit together. Make it a date.” He sighed and squeezed her hand. “I want you with me all the time. Can’t wait till you’re done with school.” His raised brows said he had an idea. “Do you have to finish school? There is one job qualification for the Dreadfort public events coordinator position, and an acolytes’ isn’t it.” He booped her on the nose. “I’ll take care of you, cutie.” 

“You’re silly,” Sansa said. “Of course I have to finish school. Besides, it’s fun. I like the research.” 

“You know I have a WSTOR pass through WHPT. If you just want to read I can get you anything you want. All the libraries in the Seven Kingdoms on your laptop. Journals manuscripts you name it. I’ll take you North right now.” He clicked his boots together. “What am I talking about. You’ve got friends here.”

Dom’s voice trailed off. Sansa leaned into his shoulder again. The sunset blazed over the sea, orange and yellow and the palest pink. Between the calling of the gulls and the gentle crashing of the waves, all of it was just so peaceful.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and his face drained. “ _Shit.”_ Abruptly he stood, turned around, and whistled high and loud. 

From behind the trees, around where they had parked, the sound of hoofbeats gathered strength, and soon, a tall red stallion emerged from over the dunes.

Sansa was dumbstruck. “Is that Florian?” 

“Aye, my lady.” When the trusty steed reached its masters’ side, Dom motioned for her to join him. “Up we go.” 

After she was safely in the saddle he mounted up in front of her and twisted the reins in his fist. 

They started at an easy walk, comfortable, soothing. _Dreamy,_ she thought. _Dreamy._ That was the word for it. The rhythmic rocking of Florian’s haunches, the whispery push and pull of the foamy ink-blue sea, the reassuring heat emanating from Dom’s back - only in her dreams could she have ever imagined an experience quite like this. The tingling in her belly bubbled up again. Oh, if only she could sit before him and roll her head back and up to see his quiet smile. She’d snake a hand up to his face and have her kiss him again...

“Happy, cutie?” Dom peeked back at her, only his left eye and the tip of his nose visible. 

She tightened her arms around him to press herself closer, to lift herself higher off Florian’s back. Their noses met with a bumpy squish and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek, to nuzzle his hair.

“This is amazing,” she sighed. “You’re amazing.” He chuckled when she gave him another smooch, a nibble on the ear, because he deserved it. 

His laugh rumbled down to her very core. “It gets better.” Then his spine straightened, the muscles in his back and shoulders and legs tensing and relaxing as he moved his arms beyond her sight.

“Hold on to me,” he said. “We’ll be flying.” 

He hadn’t lied. Around them the sea and sand and sky sped past in a whipping blur of dimming colors. Her heart began to thump against her chest, against his back, and she felt his heart race in turn. 

In the distance what looked like a rarely-used pier grew before her eyes. Not far off a party yacht sailed slowly, and the gulls circled overhead. Florian slowed down, and what started as a gallop faded quickly into a walk. When they reached the dock Dom dismounted, placing his hands around her waist to help her down. As he tied his horse to the wooden pole Sansa marveled at what she was hearing.

Somewhere, and she couldn’t tell where, the opening notes to the _Maidenpool Overture_ from _Florian and Jonquil (951 AC)_ rose in their signature crescendo, filling the air, surrounding her. But something was off. The original score had the violin and flute at this point, but the instrument playing now was the harp. She whirled her head around. Dom was still seeing to Florian’s needs, stroking his mane, whispering to him. He wasn’t the one playing. Sansa looked for speakers, megaphones, live performers, anything, but all she saw were gulls.

Could it be she was imagining it? 

“Dom? Do you hear that?” She’d spun away from him in her search. When she turned back to look at him she gasped.

An iron sign studded with circus lights had risen from the sand. They blinked in time with the music. In great block letters, the message read, _SANSA STARK MARRY ME._ Dom himself was down on one knee, his right arm extended out and up, a tiny square box of old red velvet lying open in his palm.

Her heart stopped beating her lungs stopped working she couldn’t believe it _gods be good gods be good gods be good._

“Gods be good,” she whispered, covering her mouth. “Gods be good.” His eyes were wide and hopeful, and his mouth parted slightly in what might have been a tremble. 

“ _Yes!”_ She began to jump up and down even as tears rolled down her face. “ _Yes!”_

“Cutie I didn’t even ask you yet,” he said, softly. When she stopped jumping he took the ring out and slipped the box into his pocket. She extended her left hand and he slid it onto her finger.

“You didn’t have to. You knew what I was going to say.” 

“I wanted to.” Still on his knees, he looked up at her again, a chuckle in his voice. “Sansa Stark, will you marry me?” 

“Yes,” she repeated, nodding, and he drew up to his feet. “Yes,” she would have said again, but he stopped her words with his mouth. Sweet and tender, she felt him smiling, the corners of his mouth tugging up even as he playfully nipped at her tongue.

“I love you,” he said, his long fingers wrapping around her left hand, squeezing, rising, showing her the ring. The band of gold widened and split near the setting, twisting in knots typical of the First Men from the Bronze Age. At the center was a glimmering pink sapphire, pear-cut and dazzling. An ancient Bolton treasure.

“This was my mom’s,” Dom said, almost whispering. “It’s very important.” His jaw clenched a little bit, and his gaze flicked away, and she could tell he was trying not to choke up. “You’re very important.” She nodded at him and nuzzled his face. He touched their noses together and kissed her again. This time there was no playing. She slid her hands into his back pockets and squeezed while he dug his fingers into her scalp. Around them, the music was still going - the rousing instrumental under Florian and Jonquil’s love duet from the cartoon movie. _Magical._ He broke away when she started pressing her hips into him. “Come on, cutie,” he said. “You hear that?”

“The music?” 

“Nope.” He nudged her so she’d face the water. “That.”

Now there was a speedboat parked at the dock, the motor whirring. 

“Ser,” said an older man in a red skull ballcap and Bolton pink windbreaker. “My lady.” 

Dom waved. “All good, Walton.” He took her hand and when they reached the boat, Walton passed them up two pink garment bags. Dom unzipped the first one. “You’re dry, right?” 

Sansa nodded, speechless.

“Good, Let me help you.” Too dumbstruck to notice anything more, she stepped into a sparkling blood-red cocktail dress and matching shoes. The whippy ocean wind twisted the skirt around her knees. When Dom passed her to Walton to board the boat, he was wearing his beloved pink tux. 

On the shore, a younger man in Bolton pink untied Florian from the pole. Walton released their moorings and they sped away.

Dom slung an arm around her shoulder and they watched the waves. “Did I make you happy?”

“The happiest. The happiest in the world.”

“Nah. I’ve got you beaten there.” 

“Nuh-uh.” She couldn’t stop staring at her ring finger and squeezed his hand. “But it wasn’t exactly what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?” Dom was smirking like he knew she knew he had a secret that she was dying for him to tell.

“An audience. Pictures.” 

“Are you sure there weren’t pictures?” 

Walton had driven them farther out to sea, the party yacht within shouting distance. As they approached, the larger vessel lowered a ladder, and Sansa heard the unmistakable sound of cheers. 

“Up we go,” said Dom. Walton was tying up the boat.

“What is this?” _Gods be good gods be good gods be good._

 _“_ Engagement party.” Dom’s tone was nonchalant. “Come on, cutie, they’re waiting for you.” 

She clambered up the ladder, and when she reached the deck, Robb was the one to help her up. Dom wasn’t far behind, and when he was squarely on his feet he slid his arm through hers, and Robb handed him a flute of sparkling pink wine.

“Fizzy lemonade for you,” Robb said pointedly. With one hand he picked up her lemonade off a shiny silver tray. With the other, he raised a microphone to just beneath his lips. 

“ _Congratulations to the happy couple!”_ Robb’s voice echoed through the PA system. All along the deck a crowd had formed, waving and cheering and shouting their names.

“Mom and Dad,” she breathed. “Arya and Bran and Rickon...” 

“Yep,” Dom said. “Everyone’s here.” All her family and friends...

“Bet you’re hungry again,” Dom said after they’d finished greeting everyone. “Been a while since our picnic.”

“Yeah,” she said. He led her below deck to a long dining room where a rich buffet was waiting. Near the buffet was an open bar, and on the other end of the room was a projection screen.

There the two of them were, making out in front of the iron sign in high definition. It was a slideshow. All different angles. Closeups, wide shots, birds’ eye view, like stills of a movie that had cut together several reels. 

“How’d they get those?” Dom waved to the bartender, who brought him a remarkably true-to-life artificial bird. A gull. Dom pressed a button on its belly and it started to sing Florian and Jonquil’s love duet. Then he held it up and aimed its beak at her face. The bartender raised a remote and clicked. On the screen Sansa’s bewildered face appeared.

“A drone,” Dom said, grinning. “Newest prototype from FCTC. Walda hooked me up.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s so cool.” Even after two years, Dom was still so cool. She hoped he would be this cool forever.

Behind them was the unmistakable sound of a clearing throat. 

“I beg your pardon.” _Mom_. “If I could have a moment with my daughter?” 

“Of course.” Dom smiled sheepishly and crept upstairs.

“Hi Mom,” Sansa said. Her tummy rumbled. She still hadn’t eaten yet.

“Hello, dear,” Mom said, taking the liberty of making her plate. “I know our time is limited so I will not waste words. Sansa, you said that he was _good._ By my own observations, I am inclined to believe you. So, tell me, my girl, why on _earth_ would you tempt that poor boy on _live video_?” 

*** 

When the night was done the yacht sailed east and docked at Runestone proper, where everyone had left their cars. Then they raised anchor again and watched the waves as they sailed back to the Royces’ private beach. All the goodbyes were over and done with except for the most important one.

 _Dom’s leaving tomorrow,_ she realized. _And I won’t see him for a long time._ There was more than a month before the semester ended, more than a month before she’d be back at the White Harbor townhouse again. Another weekend visit wasn’t in the cards.

They drifted along the shoreline, the inky sea the night sky’s mirror. The full moon above and its twin below stared at them with heaven’s eyes. The familiar sadness gripped her: seeping, sinking, near impossible to shake. _I’ll miss him._ Today had been so perfect; she couldn’t let the mournful end taint her memories. She made to hug him tight and lean against his shoulder and she saw he felt it too.

She didn’t say anything, letting him save face. Words often failed him when his heart was hurting. Instead, she squeezed his hand, pressed her lips to his jaw, making sure that he felt loved.

“Cutie I don’t wanna leave you tonight,” Dom finally started. He made a noise in his throat. He stepped back from her embrace and put both of his hands on her shoulders, his gaze seizing hers before flicking to the bow. “You know, the captains still here. What do you say I go talk to him and we get married right now. Then you could come home with me.” At his own words his face fell. He sighed and brought her back into his embrace. 

“I know it can’t be like that. It has to be at the Snowy Sept. I’m gonna give you the big party. You’re gonna wear the big princess dress. Cut a lemon cake as tall as me. They’re gonna want to film it. Write about it in the magazines.” No squeeze of his could be too tight. “I miss you, cutie.”

“It’s only a year,” she said to comfort him, but to her, it might as well have been a thousand. “Then I’m done, and we’re forever.” 

He pulled her close and made to kiss her again. “Yeah,” he said. “Forever.” 


End file.
